


Unexpected

by DangerDuchess



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1802743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerDuchess/pseuds/DangerDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a severe beat down in an alley, Michael's down and out, still working on picking himself back up when this weird British kid comes and offers him some help. Entering this strange world, Michael starts to see some new possibilities and changes in his life, some from unexpected places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Angsty Highschool AU Mavin fic I wrote for a friend for her birthday and figured I'd share it here. This version was beta’d by mogarwillsaveyou and lockedinapaddedcell

Michael wasn’t really aware of how much shit he’d gotten himself into until it was already too late. There weren’t just two guys from lunch coming around the corner. There were six large guys coming towards him.

‘Shit’ was the only word that came to mind. It was also the word that remained in his head throughout the whole ordeal. Well, that and blood. Fuck, there was a shit ton of blood. By the time the assholes left, Michael’s mouth was full of the stuff, his face was practically covered in it. Shit, his mom was gonna freak when he got back.

He laid there on the ground for a while. Shit, everything hurt. He probably had a cracked rib or three, and his nose was no doubt broken. Everything was in pain and he didn’t want to move.  He looked like shit. He knew he looked like shit. How could go home like this? He’d told his mom he wasn’t gonna start shit like this again. He was gonna keep his nose out of trouble. He’d promised her, the rest of the school year would be problem free.

He was so wrong.

He didn’t move—didn’t want to move. Moving hurt. Fuck,  _breathing_   hurt. He knew couldn’t lie in that alley forever, but damn it, he wanted to. Only when he heard someone approaching did he finally move, thinking one of the dick bags was coming back for more. He started to get up, movements slow and difficult.

“Holy shit!” He heard a voice yell, and then the sound of sneakers running down the alley. Next thing he knew, someone was picking him up, grabbing him by his face. “Ah you okay?” They asked, practically yelling in his face with a weird accent.

Michael swatted the hands off, his body falling back and hitting the brick wall behind him. He winced and let out a yelp of pain. Shit, that did  _not_ help. He opened his eyes, wondering who this fucking asshole was that felt the need to grab him like that.

Said asshole was not the person Michael was expecting. The guy was about his age, with a long face and spiked, sandy colored hair. His nose was pretty fucking huge and he was staring at Michael like he was an animal in a cage or something. Whoever this guy was, he was sincerely pissing Michael off, just for being here. He really didn’t need anyone to see him like this, especially some dick off the street that thought Michael was some kind of lunatic.

“Can I fucking help you, buddy?” Michael said, his brow furrowed in an angry glare. If he couldn’t fight this guy off, maybe he could scare him away.

The guy was on his knees, unafraid and looking at Michael intently. “Do  _you_ need help? You look pretty bunged up, mate,” he said.

British. The guy was fucking British. Of all the fucking people to come this way…

 “I’m fuckin fine!” Michael snapped, starting to force himself to stand. Of course, he couldn’t and fell right back down to the ground, hissing in pain. FUCK, that was a bad idea.

“Do you wont me to call someone?” The British guy said, already rummaging through his pockets.

“I can’t drive, but I can walk you somewhere.” Unfortunately, the moment he retrieved his phone it slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground and breaking into three pieces.

“Bollocks!” he yelled picking the pieces back up, not bothering to assemble the damn thing, just shoving the parts into his pocket. Something told Michael this was a regular occurrence, due to the heavy amount of scratches on the fuckin thing. Shit, who was this nerdy ass British kid?

The bleeding punk couldn’t help but laugh at the kid’s very very British exclamation. “Dude, who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Oh! I’m Gavin. Gavin Free. Sorry, I was passin through on my way home when I saw you. Thought you might like some help.” He smiled at Michael, though the smile quickly faded away as he continued to talk. “We should get you to a hospital,” Gavin said as he reached out for Michael’s arm.

“No,” Michael said, quickly. “No hospital. I’m fuckin fine!” He smacked the guy’s hand away—what was his name? Gavin? Fuckin weird name—and managed to stand on his own, legs shaking as he went. Shit, it hurt, but at least he was up.

“Where’re you goin then?” Gavin asked, his head tilting a bit in question.

That was actually a damn good question… where was he going? He couldn’t go home. Not covered in blood like he was. Mom would shit a brick the moment she saw him and start chewing him out about fighting and shit. Nah, he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go to a hospital either…

But Gavin didn’t need to know that. “None of your goddamn business!” Michael snapped, pushing Gavin away from him, starting to trudge weakly away from the bloody alley and away from the weird Brit standing there. But with every limping step Michael took, Gavin stepped behind him, following the bleeding teen.

Michael whipped around to look at him, no doubt the blood on his face making him look like a crazed mad man. “What the fuck do you want, asshole?!” He yelled.

And then, to Michael’s complete surprise, Gavin started laughing. Of all the reactions to Michael Jones’ unadulterated rage, laughter had never  _ever_  been one of them. He was so caught off guard by the response that he forgot why he was angry for a moment.

“You look absolutely mental!” Gavin laughed, his face crinkled up a bit as a giant grin spread out beneath that giant nose. “Look, why don’t you come to my house? You can try ‘n clean your face. Get some ice, if you’d like.”

Michael blinked a few times, stunned. He’d never talked to this guy before in his life. This guy had seen Michael a total of once, covered in blood and raging, yet he wanted Michael to come to his house? Logically this didn’t seem right, he felt like it was be the best place to go considering the circumstances.

He didn’t have much time to think it over or even give an answer before Gavin had taken the lead, pulling at Michael’s bloody sleeve. “C’mon,” he just said, as if that was all the explanation needed for this little adventure. “It’s not too far from here.” Michael’s feet just followed, letting Gavin take the lead, completely at a loss to do anything else.

Gavin stopped suddenly, causing Michael to nearly walk into him. The British boy turned to look at the bloodied punk, a look of pure concern and pondering on his face. “I don’t know your name,” he said.

“Uh… Michael,” He answered after a bit. “Michael Jones.”

“Hi Micool!” Gavin said, his concerned expression replaced with a fucking massive grin. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too…” He wanted to laugh again at the way the Brit said his name, but he simply pumped out the most appropriate social response. Was there a proper social response when a British guy picked you out of an alley and took you to his house?

Yes, it was to run away. But Gavin didn’t seem threatening. He seemed… funny; kind of idiotic, but funny, in the same way that a puppy was funny when it fell over. It looked like the only thing he could hurt was himself as he tripped over air. His feet seemed to be two sizes too big for his body as he tended to fumble over them every five minutes. It was obvious he was kind of a clutz, the way he was stumbling the whole way to the house.

Yeah… the guy was funny and far from dangerous. Michael found himself smiling at Gavin’s antics as they walked. The guy was a fucking dork. It was kind of… adorable? Gavin didn’t even get frustrated with every faulty step he made. He just laughed at himself. Michael thought it was weird, but the nerd’s happy demeanor rubbed off onto him making him smile, just a crack.

“Did you forget how to fucking walk?” Michael asked after about the tenth time the guy nearly fell into the street. “Seriously, I’m kind of concerned. Were you dropped on your head as a kid or some shit?”

Gavin didn’t respond to Michael’s teasing, other than just shooting the bloody punk with that stupid ass grin as he walked up the front door of a small house that was squashed between two other slightly larger houses. It didn’t look like anything five star, but Michael wasn’t picky at all and it was Gavin’s home, which seemed like the best place to be right now.

Gavin strolled inside the house, taking off his shoes and holding the door open for Michael. “C’mon in!” he exclaimed, clearly excited. Michael had a feeling this kid didn’t have a lot of friends or at least didn’t usually bring home the bleeding trash from the alley.

“Are your parents gonna be upset I’m here?” Michael asked, limping into the house. Once inside, he leaned on the wall for support, trying not to look as weak as he felt.

“Nah.” Gavin closed the front door and set down his backpack—the little nerd had a fucking Minecraft backpack in high school. Good grief. He gestured for Michael to follow him down the hall. “I mean, my parents live in England, so…they’re not really gonna care, and my host parents won’t mind. Though, when my host mum gets home, she might try and get you to stay for dinner.”

Michael followed, his brow furrowing a bit. He’d guessed Gavin was a foreign exchange student. Maybe the guy didn’t understand that just pulling a guy off the street wasn’t a smart idea, but surely his ‘host parents’ would. Even when Michael wasn’t beaten up and bloody, he wasn’t exactly the kind of kid you invited over for dinner. He was the kind of guy you left alone or risk getting the shit beaten out you for looking at him funny.

Gavin led Michael down a hall into a small kitchen. He could hear talking as they walked, but couldn’t place the source until the hall opened into the small sitting area that was only separated from the kitchen by a counter. Sitting on a couch were three men, all grown adults, but they were playing video games. One guy was blonde and clean shaven and chuckling at whatever was happening on the screen. Another guy had a giant beard and glasses and was grinning, yelling at the game. The last guy had massive sleeves of tattoos with a curly moustache and was laughing like a maniac.

Needless to say, Michael was confused and curious, eyes flicking from the men to the TV, wondering what was happening that was making them all laugh. They were playing some car game. Grand theft auto, maybe? One of the guy’s cars was just sailing through the air, miles above the ground. The two other dudes had stopped to watch the sports car come flying down, crashing into the side of a mountain. Everyone had just lost it by that point, bursting into laughter.

“You stupid mother fucker!” The moustache laughed, barely breathing.

“Way to go Jack, just…” The clean shaven guy began to give a slow, sarcastic clap, laughing too hard to make out words.

“Go fuck yourselves,” the beard said, laughing as well, as a red “wasted” appeared on his screen.

Michael had been so entertained by just watching them that he forgot what he was doing here in the first place until Gavin was standing next to him and saying, “Hey, Dad, I’m home. And I brought a friend!”

All three men looked over, just giving a casual “hi Gavin,” but doing a double take when they saw Michael’s bloodied and bruised face.

“Holy shit,” Moustache said, getting up and walking over.

“Uh… hi,” Michael said, unsure of what to say. He’d never met adults like this before; guys who were tatted out and swearing were bad guys Michael wasn’t supposed to interact with ever because they were all evil, or at least that’s what he’d been taught since he was young.

“Micool, this is my host dad, Geoff Ramsey,” Gavin said. Geoff gave a little wave in a hello, his face pulled into a little concerned expression. Gavin didn’t seem to notice as he continued, “dad, this is Micool.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Michael said, holding out a hand, but Geoff didn’t take it. He was focused on Michael’s face.

 “Shit dude, you stick your face in a wood chipper?” He asked. Michael shook his head, letting out a flash of a tiny smile and a weak chuckle. Mr. Ramsey looked to Gavin. “Gav, get ‘em some ice. Michael, the bathroom’s right over there. Go wash up,” he said, pointing to a small bathroom. “Don’t worry about staining the towels, it’ll come out.”

Michael nodded, a little stunned. “Ah… er…thanks…sir,” he mumbled, not sure how to properly respond in this kind of situation.

“Please, you can call me Geoff or Mr. Ramsey,” he requested, giving Michael a small smile.

“Or call him the great moustache,” The clean shaven guy said with a grin.

“Or Mr. Moonshine,” said the beard with a laugh.

Geoff turned to look at them. “Or, how about you two shut the fuck up before I beat the shit out of you guys and kick you out of my house?” He said with a smile. The others laughed and he walked back over to the couch to join them, taking up his controller and plopping right between them.

Michael pulled himself away from the spectacle and ducked into the bathroom. Getting a towel wet, he started dabbing at his wounds, hissing a bit every time it stung. He’d be alright in a week or two. This was not the first time he’d gotten beaten, nor was it the worst beating he’d ever received.

Once he’d successfully stained the beige cloth red, Gavin came in, holding a big freezer bag of ice. He offered to Michael with his fuckin dopey grin. Michael couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch that fucking face or…Well, there was a reason Michael got beat up so often

“Thanks,” he said, taking the ice and holding it up to his nose. “Fuck…” It was just a general exclamation, not because anything in particular hurt. Everything hurt. At least he could stand. It would’ve been fucking embarrassing if Gavin had carried him the whole way here. Fucker would’ve probably dropped him twenty times before they even got close to the house.

“Do you wanna sit?” Gavin asked. He was clearly concerned with Michael’s well being, despite having only just met the guy.

Michael shook his head. “Ah… no thanks.” He didn’t need to look any weaker than he already did.

A sudden round of laughter and cheers sprung from the living room, no doubt something hilarious happening on the screen. Michael poked his head out, wondering what had happened, but he knew nothing about video games.

“Dad’s friends like to come over and play with him. They’re real close,” Gavin explained. He pointed at the man with the beard. “That’s Jack. He’s great.” He then pointed at the clean shaven man. “And that’s Ryan. He’s a bit mental, but hilarious.”

Nodding, Michael looked at the two men, sitting there with their controllers, laughing and carrying on. It was weird, seeing grown adults hanging around like teens. Hell, Geoff had a fuckin curly moustache and whole sleeves of tattoos. This was the opposite of what he’d always been taught an adult should be.

“…You’re dad’s fuckin weird, man,” he said.

Gavin just laughed, leaning against the door jamb. “You should see my mum!”

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening and closing and running feet could be heard. A small, blonde girl, about eight or seven, ran in and tackled Geoff in a hug. She squealed as Geoff picked her up, spinning her around.

Gavin leaned over to Michael. “That’s Millie, my host sister.”

Said host sister looked over at Gavin, grinning. The moment Geoff put her down, she ran to the Brit, and he picked her up.

“Heh, hey Mils,” Gavin said. “Look, I brought a friend home!” He gestured his head at Michael, turning to face the bloody delinquent.

She stared for a moment and Michael stared back, neither entirely sure what to do about the other. Michael gave her a weak wave, but she looked back up at Gavin. “What happened to his face?” Gavin laughed, but she looked seriously concerned. “Does he need a band-aid?” She turned to look at Michael. “I’ve got Pokémon band-aids! Do you want one?”

Michael was about to say no thanks, but she had already squirmed out of Gavin’s arms, running over to her backpack and was pulling out a small tin case.. She ran back to Michael, gesturing for him to get on her level. “Here,” She said, opening the plastic wrapping and sticking the Squirtle bandage on his face.

“Uh… thanks,” was all he could say. He was so confused, wondering what the hell was going on. Who were these strange people?

But the collection of crazy kept growing as Mrs. Ramsey walked in. Dropping some bags of groceries on the counter, she turned to give her husband a kiss. That’s when Michael saw who exactly she was. Her chopped blonde hair, pierced nose, and tattoo sleeves were strange, yet incredible. He’d never seen another woman like her before. He’d been taught tattoos were bad, piercings would prevent you from getting a job, and women were supposed to be pretty, petite creatures. Mrs. Ramsey was loud, big, and clearly didn’t care about hiding her tats or piercing. Michael loved it.

“Dude,” Michael said. “You’re mom’s fucking hardcore.”

Gavin nodded. “Definitely.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist and started pulling him toward her. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you!” Before Michael could even protest, Gavin had hauled him out of the bathroom and right up to the strange woman.

“Mum, this is Micool,” he said, grinning like the nerd he was.

Mrs. Ramsey seemed confused, but excited, the ring in her nose glinting in the light as she turned. “Oh… Hi Michael…” She grinned and took his hand in a very firm grip. “I’m Griffon Ramsey. It’s nice to meet you. Are… you a friend of Gavin’s?” she asked.

“Uh…” That was an interesting question. Was he? He’d only just met the guy. But he was already meeting his family and they seemed to like him already, just by looking at him. The guy hadn’t done anything to hurt him and had actually done the opposite. It was weird. Who were these guys and why did they care so much?

“He got beat up pretty bad, so I thought I’d help him out,” Gavin said when Michael didn’t answer right away.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Gavin,” Griffon said, smiling. She poked the Pokémon band-aid on his forehead. “I see Millie got to you.” She said with a chuckle. Michael couldn’t help but smile back. “Will Michael be joining us for dinner then?” She looked from Gavin to Michael, waiting for either to answer. Her gaze staying on Michael, she said “we’d love to have you.”

“Uh,” Michael said again like the genius he was. He shifted the bag of ice on his face a bit. “I mean…” he wanted to stay. He definitely wanted to stay. Something about this weird crazy house made him feel…comfortable. “I mean… I could call my mom, I guess.”

“Wonderful!” She said, excited and gleeful. “I’ll set out an extra spot, then! Gavin, why don’t you and Millie go wash up and report back for dinner duty while Michael calls his mom?”

Everything seemed to happen then. Gavin grabbed Millie and went to the bathroom, Geoff’s friends had left, giving Michael a “nice too meet you” and a “See you around, Michael,” before leaving, and Griffon had pulled Geoff into the kitchen to help her make food.

Michael was pointed to the phone and took it, going down the hall by the front door for a bit of privacy. It was clear from his mother’s tone she didn’t believe him when he said a friend had invited him for dinner. He didn’t  _have_  friends and telling her a British exchange student took him home after picking him up from an alley would seem too ridiculous to be true. She wanted to talk to Mrs. Ramsey. Mom’s trusted other moms, he guessed. At this point, he felt like just pulling the plug, going home and forgetting this ever happened, but as he stepped back toward the kitchen to return the phone, he heard Geoff and Griffon talking.

“—the first time he’s ever brought a friend home, Geoff,” came Griffon’s voice.

Geoff sighed, then said, “I know, babe, I know. I’m just saying… He seems a bit…ya know?” Michael didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean, but Griffon apparently did.

“Please, how many fights did you get into as a teen?” Griffon retorted, to which they both laughed. There was a pause, then Griffon continued. “…Gav’s finally making friends, Geoff… He’s finally branching out! This is what we wanted, remember?”

There was another pause. Michael looked down at his chest. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had difficulty making friends.

“Michael could be good for him… and by the looks of it, Gavin could be good for Michael,” Griffon continued.

Geoff laughed. “Geezus, Grif, they’re not dating!”

“They miiiiIIIIIiiiiight,” Griffon sang, ending her sentence with a giggle. “I mean… it’s pretty clear where Gavin stands, at least.”

Geoff laughed again. “You little shipper! You only just met the kid! Slow the fuck down, woman!”

“I’m just saying!”

At this point, Michael turned the corner, causing both Ramseys to look up, wondering how much he’d heard. The punk thought about telling them he’d heard everything, then maybe tell them he liked Gavin and that he liked them, but instead he just held out the phone to Griffon. “Uh… She wants to talk to you.”

Griffon smiled as she took the phone with a wink. And that was it.

Michael decided right then that he liked this place. He liked it a lot. And that began everything.

The one dinner wound up turning into a lot of dinners and a lot of afternoons after school. He’d seen Gavin around, but had never actually noticed the guy before. He was just another background character in Michael’s mind. But now that he knew just how bizarre and fantastic the guy was, it was like someone had painted the nerd in Technicolor. Michael couldn’t help but notice the guy everywhere. He played around, of course, teasing Gavin about his accent whenever he could and getting into fights about whether it was ‘flashlight’ or ‘torch’ for hours, but it was all in good fun.

They’d go to the Ramsey’s house after school. Michael would play with Geoff, Jack and Ryan (they taught Michael how to play and seriously enjoyed his crazy antics. They laughed when he yelled, just like Gavin had. It was…nice) and even helped him make characters on various games. They were the first adults to actually treat Michael as an equal. Maybe it was because they were all pretty much slightly grown up children, or Michael being slightly mature for his age, but both parties loved playing together.

After gaming, or when the guys didn’t come, Michael and Gavin would go up to Gavin’s room and work on homework, or just sit and talk. They were set apart from the rest of the house, so they had a fair amount of privacy, but were still close enough that they could hear when Geoff or Griffon called them to dinner. Sitting on the bed, they’d talk about anything and everything. Michael found a sort of acceptance there, in the small room. Gavin didn’t mind listening to Michael talk or complain about whatever. The punk found he could tell Gavin everything, even things he’d never told to anyone else.

It was a time like this in which Gavin had asked Michael why they never went to his house. Was he ashamed of it or something? Michael told him that no, he wasn’t ashamed. His house just wasn’t a happy place. “It’s not like this house,” he explained. “Mom’s always stressed and tired, so there’s not really time for happy family fun times or games.” Slowly, he began to tell the story of how Mr. Jones had abandoned Michael and his mom, how she’d raised Michael all on her own, and how she’d had to deal with him getting beaten up ever since he was in middle school.

“For wot?” Gavin asked, sitting on the bed next to the curly haired boy. “Why would they beatchu up so much?”

“Lots of different reasons, trust me… Cuz I didn’t shut up, cuz I called someone out, or—”

“In primary school?” Gavin asked, interrupting.

“Well…in my old school… it was cuz…they found out I was gay,” Michael muttered, looking down at his socks. “I got the shit kicked out of me when a couple of dudes found out… they never told anyone. Said if I told on them, they’d tell on me, and… ya know, I didn’t wanna… burden my mom with that shit…” He kicked at the carpet, absently. “She still doesn’t know…”

Gavin put a sympathetic hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Micool, I’m so sorry…”

Michael waved him off. “Whatever man… She’s too busy to care, anyways. She doesn’t need to worry about a piece of shit like me…”

Suddenly, Gavin was in his face. His face was serious and he looked Michael right in the eyes as he spoke. “You’re not a piece of shit, Micool. You’re not.”

The punk was so stunned, he didn’t even know what to say.

And then suddenly he didn’t have to. Whatever space between them, Gavin breached it, leaning forward and kissing him. He’d probably tripped, in honesty, what with the way he slammed into Michael’s mouth, but they both recovered, and neither of them wanted to be the first one to stop.

However, lack of breath forced them apart, both panting slightly, sitting there on Gavin’s bed, watching the other. Who knows what would have happened, had Griffon Ramsey not called them down for dinner at that exact moment.

Things continued like that: Sitting on Gavin’s bed, talking about the world, each other, school, and then one of them would breach the gap. The initiator always changed, but neither ever wanted to stop. It stayed in that bedroom for a while before they dared breaching out, catching moments alone in the locker room, behind school, in a hidden corner at the end of hallways. It was those moments that made being at that school tolerable, for both of them.

Sometimes they almost got caught, and one time they were. It was the end of the school day, and Michael had had to serve a detention for having cigarettes on school grounds (Gavin had scolded him, even though he knew that Michael rarely even smoked anymore!) and had to stay an hour after school to clean the classrooms as punishment. He was in the classroom of Mr. Burns, the econ teacher, when Gavin came in. He had offered to help, wanting to speed Michael’s detention along, The fucking nerd had gone to the water bucket to grab a sponge when he’d tripped and knocked it over, covering himself and the floor in water. Michael had laughed, calling Gav a fucking idiot, but when he’d gone over to help Gavin get up he fell down right on top of him.

Pinned down under Michael, Gavin laughed, then did what any boy would naturally do, pulled his curly haired boy into a kiss, to which Michael hardly protested to. The pair laid there for a while in the soapy water, neither terribly minding the wetness around them. Gavin had just managed to flip Michael over, pinning him in the water and silencing his swears and protests with another kiss, when Mr. Burns walked into the classroom, having left something in his desk.

“Ah-hem,” he said, still standing in the door way. He watched as the pair scrambled to get off each other, both startled and failing to stand up in the massive puddle they’d created. It was almost funny. It took them a few tries to successfully stand up, the floor being ridiculously slick, but they finally managed it after a few attempts. Once on their feet, they began to stutter out explanations and apologies, both blushing furiously and looking so afraid.

Mr. Burns held up a hand silencing them both. He really didn’t need an explanation or an apology. He said nothing for a moment and just looked at Michael. “You’re serving detention right now, aren’t you, Michael?”

“Ye..yeah,” Michael said, scratching at his neck. He shot a look at Gavin, clearly terrified of what the teacher would do.

Mr. Burns turned his gaze on Gavin. “And, Gavin, you’re not, right?” Gavin only nodded, unable to make any sound come out of his throat. “Then, why don’t you wait outside for Michael, alright?”

Gavin nodded and started to make his way to the hall, but Mr. Burns stopped him again. “On second thought, why don’t you find the Janitor? We’re gonna need some mops…”

That was it. No yelling, no scolding, no reporting. He just gave them both a smile and helped them clean up the water spill. Once they’d cleaned up the puddle, however, he insisted Gavin wait outside and let Michael finish in peace, but that was all he did. Once he’d grabbed his papers from his desk, he gave both boys a nod and a smile, reminded them of their homework for tomorrow and left.

“Okay, so, like… it’s official: Mr. Burns is the best teacher ever,” Michael commented, once he’d finished cleaning all his detention cleaning duties. Gavin nodded vigorously. Out of all of the soul sucking classes they attended, the econ class was surprisingly interesting due entirely to the fact that Mr. Burns was a great teacher and an even greater person. He was the kind teacher that was incredibly chill and didn’t mind you calling him “Burnie,” ask about his life, or whatever. He wanted to be on the same level as the students in most respects, talking to them as equals rather than subjects. He was a great guy, and apparently didn’t mind helping Michael and Gavin clean up a mess, in more ways than one.

After that day, the two were a little more careful. They managed to make it the rest of the school year without being found out, and celebrated that fact by practically spending the whole summer together. When they weren’t in Gavin’s room, they were playing shitty games on the x-box together, Michael yelling at Gavin for being a fucking dumbass and Gavin not understanding what the fuck he was doing wrong. They’d play shitty game after shitty game until Geoff would yell at them to “go outside or some shit.” They’d then wander the town together, talking, laughing, just enjoying being with each other.

However, as much as he wished to, Michael couldn’t spend all his time with Gavin. Some days he just couldn’t make it to the house and had to walk around on his own. On one of these days, he was approached by an all too familiar sight.

“Sup faggot,” said one, the biggest one of the four.

Michael was out numbered. He couldn’t run and he couldn’t fight. “Guys…please, don’t do this.”

“Chicken, Jones?” taunted another one. “Don’t worry, man, we just got a few questions.” It didn’t take a genius to see through that bullshit. But Michael said nothing, silently bristling like a cat.

“We were wondering who you new BFF was,” a third guy chimed in.

 “Seen you around town with ‘em,” said another. “When were you gonna introduce us to your little boyfriend, Jones?”

No. Not Gavin. “You stay the fuck away from him!” Michael hissed.

They all laughed, and Michael realized he’d made a mistake. They might’ve just been joking before, but now there was no room for doubt. Michael had just confirmed everything for them.  _SHIT._

They had Michael surrounded now. “Didn’t realize you were a total queer, Jones. We knew you were a piece of shit, but… didn’t realize you were a faggot, too.”

“Look,” Michael said, really not in the mood for this bullshit. “Do whatever the fuck you want with me. But leave Gavin out of this.”

“Oh is that his name?” said one of them. “So, do you fuck him or does he fuck you?”

Michael clenched and unclenched his fists. He was trying to calm down, but anyone who knew him knew his temper had a hairline trigger that was inches from being set off

“You kidding man? This guy’s a pussy.” The fourth one was just behind Michael. He leaned over, practically talking right into Michael’s ear. “I bet he loves it up the ass.”

Michael turned and punched the guy square in the nose. This is what they’d been waiting for. They’d wanted Michael to throw the first punch. The rest was a blur; a big, bloody, painful blur. All he remembered was waiting for it to be over and not being worried for himself, but for Gavin. Usually bullies carried empty threats, but Michael would never be able to forgive himself if they went after Gavin.

When he finally got home, his mother was waiting for him. She instantly started fussing, worried and demanding to know whose mother she had to call, what had happened, why was Michael starting fights again. The wounded teen kept saying over and over that it was nothing, just leave it alone, but she just wouldn’t leave it, yelling and nagging until finally Michael caved and had to tell her. And so he told her everything. Everything from sixth grade and on to meeting Gavin and practically joining his family. Once he started talking, he couldn’t shut up.

She didn’t say anything, which was new. She’d gone from screaming at him for getting into fights to actually listening to him for once. Michael didn’t get very far, though. She had to go to work, but she left pointing a finger at Michael and firmly saying “This isn’t over,” her expression unreadable. Michael just slumped down on the couch. He didn’t know if he’d just saved his ass or thrown it onto the fire. He wanted to shrivel up and die. Everything was out now. His mom knew about him. He wanted to go to the Ramsey’s. He wanted to talk to Gavin. He wanted to grab Gavin by his fucking graphic tee and collapse on him.

Gavin.

He suddenly remembered that Michael hadn’t been the only one those dicks had threatened. He had to make sure Gavin was alright. He dialed Gavin’s number as fast as he possibly could and listened, waiting earnestly for the nerd to pick up.

“Ello? Micool?”

Michael wanted to sing. Or cry. Or both. Gavin was okay. “Hey Gavvy…listen, are you alright? Has anyone come by the house or anything?”

“Uh…no. Why? …Micool, is something wrong?” The little Brit was clearly concerned. Michael probably sounded like shit over the line. He almost wanted to laugh as he remembered that a beating was what led him to Gavin in the first place. Fate was such a bitch sometimes.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “I just…Some dicks came up to me today and…they started talking about you.” How could he say this without revealing he’d gotten the shit beaten out of him? “Uh…I was just wondering if you were okay…”

“I’m fine, Micool, I’m fine. Shit, did they hurt  _you_?” Now Gavin was concerned. He always was when it came to Michael’s recklessness.

“Eh… a bit,” he said, unconvincingly. “But it’s fine.”

Gavin clearly was not blown away by Michael’s A+ acting. “I’m coming over,” he said, simply, and hung up the phone, leaving Michael to sit on the couch, a bag of ice to his face, wallowing in regret and pain.

One thing Gavin hadn’t clarified when he’d said, “I’m coming over,” was that he was he’d really meant “Griffon and I are coming over.” Apparently, Gavin still couldn’t drive, didn’t know Michael’s address, had to ask Griffon to look it up in the school phone book, and then drive him there. Michael would’ve been mad, but honestly, he was really glad to see Griffon. She didn’t yell at him for being an idiot or ask about what’d happened, she just went to get a cloth to help clean up the blood, got some bandages and asked if Michael had eaten anything.

Gavin, however, was much more stressed out, asking Michael where it hurt, if he was comfortable, and demanding to know just  _exactly_  what’d happened. Reluctantly, Michael had to tell him. He’d tried to leave details out, but Gavin wouldn’t let him. Had Michael not been in such pain, Gavin would’ve probably hit him every time the punk lied about what had happened. Instead, he just gave Michael a knowing look, which pretty much felt the same. Michael wasn’t exactly in a position to fight back or come up with a lie, so instead he told Gavin everything.

Telling the truth was much harder than lying, and many times Michael found it hard to recite what the bullies had said, his throat catching and tears starting to prick at his eyes. Even though the words weren’t his own, they hurt to say, much more than his broken nose or fractured ribs. Gavin seemed to understand, taking the boy’s hand and squeezing supportively, as small tears started to roll down Michael’s cheeks. This was pure hate that had been meant mostly for Michael, but seeing Michael in this kind of pain hurt Gavin. Before too long, they were hugging on the couch, crying and sniffling, not saying anything, just holding each other. They didn’t need to say anything and Griffon didn’t seem to need an explanation as she just tossed a blanket over them and left them alone to rummage Michael’s kitchen.

The two wound up falling asleep against each other like that and remained that way for a good while. Even when Michael’s mother came home, they didn’t stir. Griffon managed to pull Mrs. Jones into the kitchen before she could wake them. By the time Michael and Gavin woke up, Griffon and Mrs. Jones were BFF’s, laughing about some story about children and husbands, where eating Hawaiian Pizza and drinking margaritas.

Michael was the first one awake and slowly let go of the scrawny Brit who barely stirred in his arms as the curly haired punk untangled himself and followed the sound of middle aged women laughing.

Sitting around the kitchen table, the women both smiled at the delinquent as he walked in. Michael, however, was only focused on his mother. When she’d left, Michael had been split in two as he confessed everything to her. Just looking at her reopened the wounds.

His mom got up from the table, sensing his pain, and just wrapped him up in a hug. She whispered into his ear, “Michael, I love you…I will always love you, no matter what, baby.”

Michael cried for the second time that day, holding tight to his mother and soaking her shoulder with his tears. He didn’t even realize it until he was already doing it, his back shaking as he clung to the woman. She let him cry there for a few minutes, just falling apart and rubbing his back. No one loved Michael like his mother and no one ever would.

But no one loved him like Gavin either and no one made him feel more welcome than Gavin.

Once his mother relinquished her grasp on Michael, the teen went back to the sleeping boy on the couch. Fuck, the nerd was precious while sleeping. Michael just wanted to curl up again next to him and sleep for the rest of the day beside him. Leaning down on the couch, Michael took the sleeping boy’s face in his hands, waking Gavin up with a kiss, Disney style. When Gavin started to move, Michael pulled a part, grinning. “Rise and shine, asshole… come meet my mom.”

“Yo mum’s here?!” Gavin exclaimed, excited, instantly awake. He was already trying to stand up, despite still having Michael on top of him. “C’mon, I wanna meet her, you twat! Get off!”

Michael laughed and got off his beloved nerd, helping the poor fucker up before he slipped and broke his head on the couch or some shit. Taking Gavin’s hand, Michael led the pair into the kitchen, Gavin still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Mom?” The curly haired punk said, a grin taking over his face. “Mom, this is Gavin…” He looked from the beaming face of the British nerd he loved so much to the smiling face of his mother. It was with pride and exhilaration that he spoke his next three words, grinning like a maniac: “He’s my boyfriend.”


End file.
